


West of the Moon

by sunstarunicorn



Series: It's a Magical Flashpoint [28]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Flashpoint (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Tech-Magic War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-05-21 12:31:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14915433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunstarunicorn/pseuds/sunstarunicorn
Summary: Jules and Lou are safe, but now that the technological world knows about magic, war has begun.  As nations around the world rise up against the magical world, Team One hatches a desperate plan to prevent the war and save an innocent werewolf’s life.  The only way to save the future…is in the past.





	1. Going to Ground

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the twenty-eighth in the Magical Flashpoint series. It follows “Trial By Moonlight”.
> 
> Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own _Flashpoint_ , _Harry Potter_ , _Narnia_ , or _Merlin_.

_Previously_

“Spike,” Sam called, waving the bomb tech over, “Could you run a quick search for either Lou or Jules’ phones? I can’t find them and the patrol Aurors say they never got the four hostages the subject released.”

* * * * *

“Sam?” Spike questioned from his spot at his computer, sounding unnerved.

“You find them?”

Spike shook his head. “Both their phones are being blocked…and I mean, blocked like mine was when we got kidnapped.”

* * * * *

Josiah growled. “Even rogues would not be so _stupid_ as to attack the Muggle British Embassy. It _must_ be the magical British Embassy; to do otherwise would put them afoul of the Statute of Secrecy.” His attention turned to Parker. “I know of a place, far from both magical and Muggle communities where wolves can range without fear. Deep in the country, any humans would have nowhere to run as the moon rises.”

* * * * *

The explosion roared like nothing Roy had ever heard before, not from a movie and not on the job. A second explosion followed the first, a shockwave of sound and thunder that pounded at both men, echoing into the night. Debris rained down around them, deflected by Onasi’s hasty shield spell. Around them, the grass lit, fire glowing an instant before going out. Roy’s ears rang as he pushed himself up, staring in shock at the building – or rather, what was _left_ of it. Fire raged in the shell, licking at the jutting timbers and jagged walls.

* * * * *

“War,” Giles managed from his position between Wordy and Sam. His face was wet with tears and grief was only just sinking in, but he wasn’t so far gone that he couldn’t think. “A war between worlds. And thousands will die before it’s all over, on both sides.”

“Not thousands,” Parker disagreed, pale in the light of the full moon above them. “Millions.”

* * * * *

_Now_

Three trucks and one sedan drove through the night; rain fell in sheets and thunder boomed in the distance. The rain had started shortly after they hit the highway, a highway that was almost empty as the night wore on. Despite the full day, none of the group was ready to call it quits yet. Greg Parker flicked on the radio, hoping, _praying_ , that maybe Roy and Giles had been wrong, but the first news report, a triumphant announcement that the first of the newly discovered magical enclaves was being successfully subdued, nixed that hope. The second report was a grave retelling of the massacre that had touched off the chaos. The third was an interview with a prominent military official who admitted knowing about the magical world for years, only breaking his silence in the aftermath of the ‘cowardly, repulsive’ attack on the British Embassy. Greg switched the radio off, hoping that ‘prominent military official’ hadn’t been General Braddock…Sam would be devastated if it was.

“Sarge?” Wordy called over the comm.

“Yeah, Wordy?”

“Want me to pick up the kids? I already have to pick up Shelley and the girls.”

Wordy was the only one of them driving alone, for that precise reason…the group had, together, made the decision to go underground and see if they could do something, _anything_ , to stop the madness. Lou and Jules were riding with Greg and Ed, while Spike and Sam drove the third truck, and Roy and Giles drove Roy’s old, battered sedan.

“Thanks, Wordy, I’d appreciate that,” Greg replied. “You call Shelley yet?”

“Roads are a little slick for that, Sarge,” Wordy admitted.

“Okay, I’ll call her, give her a heads up and then call the kids,” Greg volunteered.

Wordy blew out a huff. “Thanks, Sarge.”

Greg smiled to himself, pulling out his phone and flipping through the contacts. Shelley picked up with an anxious, “Kevin?”

“Shelley, it’s Greg. Wordy’s driving and it’s a bit slick, so I said I’d call for him,” Greg explained quickly.

The sound of Shelley dropping into a chair in relief came through the phone. “Oh, thank God. I’ve been watching all the reports, praying none of you were in that building when it blew…” Shelley sniffled a bit. “How could something like this happen, Greg?”

“I wish I knew,” Greg admitted. “We’re all fine, Shelley, but Wordy’s going to come pick you, the girls, and my kids up…we’re all heading for Ed’s place to regroup and figure out what to do next.”

“Okay,” Shelley whispered after a few seconds. “Do you need to call the kids next or do you have time?”

“I need to call the kids,” Greg informed her. “And it’s probably best to talk face-to-face after tonight.” At the whispered agreement, he hung up and hit the speed dial for his own home.

Lance picked up so fast, it was clear his _nipote_ had been hovering next to the phone. “Uncle Greg?”

“Hey, kiddo,” Greg greeted his nephew, forcing an upbeat tone. “Wordy’s going to come pick up you and your sister for a sleepover at Ed’s place.”

The upbeat tone failed as Lance asked anxiously, “Is everyone okay?”

Greg sighed quietly, wishing the news was better. “ _We’re_ okay, Roy’s okay, and Giles is okay, but other than that…”

“They’re gone,” his nephew managed, so soft that Greg needed his gryphon hearing to make out the words. His own heavy sigh was all the confirmation needed. “We’ll…we’ll be ready to go when Uncle Wordy gets here,” Lance promised, before hanging up.

The SRU Sergeant sighed again, letting his head drop back on the head rest. “What a mess,” he muttered, loud enough for his teammates to hear him.

“That’s one way to put it,” Sam agreed from the third truck.

* * * * *

Ed’s garage wasn’t tall enough for the three SRU trucks, so Roy parked in the garage while Team One parked in the driveway, leaving space for Wordy’s truck when it arrived. Inside, Ed raided the closets for sheets, pillows, and blankets while the remainder of Team One divvied up the living space and plotted out both dinner and the medical attention that Jules and Lou still needed. In the end, Greg handled the medical attention, leaving Sam and Spike free to help Ed get the living spaces set up and Roy free to handle Giles’ breakdown as the shock wore off and reality set in.

Lou, worse off than Jules, admitted that when the four former hostages jumped himself and Jules, he’d been slammed into the wall nearby and cut his shoulder on a jagged area. Greg seethed when Lou added that the werewolves had been insistent that the injury would make it easier for Lou to be turned. Jules, aside from a few minor cuts and bruises, was unharmed; apparently, female werewolves were highly prized by the rogue pack, so Jules had gotten better treatment than Lou.

The Sergeant forced Lou to stay out of getting the living spaces set up, determined that Lou was _not_ going to make his shoulder injury any worse by hauling things around. Satisfied that Lou would obey, Greg headed downstairs to lend a hand, but was redirected by Ed to where Roy and Giles were. As soon as Greg entered the room, he understood; a vase sailed straight at the negotiator’s chest, narrowly missing Roy. Parker caught the vase and moved right into Giles’ line of sight, his left hand snapping out an order for Roy to make himself scarce.

“Giles, stop, stop,” Greg ordered. “This isn’t helping and Sophie would scalp you if you broke the vase Eddie and Clark got her last year.” He held up the vase, but kept a grip on it, suspecting that if Giles got it back, it _would_ end up broken. The negotiator softened his tone. “I wish I could say something that would help, but I can’t. I don’t think it’s sunk in yet for me, but you were _there_. You _saw_ it happen, you _saw_ all those people die, right in front of you.”

Just like that, Giles turned on the veteran cop, screaming, “What do _you_ care? You’re just a _Muggle_ , you’re just like all the rest of them, jealous of our world, afraid of what we can do, what we were _born_ to do. You’re probably _happy_ they’re dead, _happy_ my world is being destroyed while we just _sit_ here!”

Greg let the other scream, let him rail and howl, without responding. When Giles ran out of words, panting for air, Greg deliberately lowered his voice, forcing Giles to lean forward to hear him. “I know it hurts, I know you’re grieving, but my team and I did not cause tonight’s events. If we could change what happened, I’d do it in heartbeat, but we can’t. All we can do is save as many people as we can, but we can’t do that while we’re _all_ exhausted and hurting.”

Greg gripped Onasi’s shoulder with his left hand, cradling Sophie’s vase in his right arm. “Tomorrow, we’re going to start doing _everything_ we can to stop this…to end _all_ of this…and we’re going to need your help, Giles. It’s your choice, _your_ choice. But no matter what you choose, we’ve got your back, Giles. You hear me?”

Giles swallowed hard; Greg suspected that he’d only just hit denial…tonight was just too close for any more than that. The real breakdown was yet to come and, just as Greg had said, it hadn’t sunk in for the Sergeant any more than it truly had for Giles. When it came, Greg had a feeling his entire team would need time…time they didn’t have right now. Giles’ voice, raspy with suppressed grief and his bout of screaming, finally came. “I hear you.” He didn’t apologize, but Greg didn’t expect him to…not after watching his friends die like that. Greg squeezed the Auror’s shoulder and left him alone…though Greg took Sophie’s precious vase with him to store elsewhere.

* * * * *

“Soph, I’m okay, everyone here is okay,” Ed reassured his distraught wife over the phone. “I’m sorry I wasn’t answering my phone…we had a last minute hot call an hour or so before the Embassy got attacked. We didn’t even find out until the call was done.”

“What are you going to do, Ed?” Sophie whispered, her fear so blatant that Ed cringed.

“We don’t know, Soph…we’re all crashing here for tonight; we’ll figure out what to do tomorrow.” Ed hung his head, but forced the rest out. “Look, Soph, I got to go…Wordy’s bringing Shelley, the girls, and Boss’s kids over and I got to figure out where they’re gonna sleep.”

“Ed…just…stay safe, please.”

“I’ll try.” He couldn’t promise, not with a war already raging around them.

* * * * *

Greg picked up his phone on the second ring. “Commander Holleran, sir,” he greeted briskly, leaving one arm free to wrap around his niece; his nephew hugged his other side, but was careful to stay clear of the phone.

“I assume you’ve heard the news?” Holleran asked gravely.

“We have, sir,” Greg acknowledged. “I understand police units are already being called in to quell the violence.” He carefully did _not_ add what _else_ was going on.

Holleran snorted. “Let’s skip the pretty words, Sergeant, and call this what it is: a bloodbath that’s only going to get worse. Just tell me: was the attack on the Embassy authorized by the magical government?”

“No, sir,” Greg replied, letting a touch of anger into his voice. “In fact, the civilians who reported several rumors they’d heard all believed that any attack would be against the _magical_ British Embassy, because to attack the _non-magical_ Embassy would be sheer lunacy. The _last_ thing the magical government wanted was an open attack against a non-magical target because _that_ would put the Statute of Secrecy at risk.”

Holleran was silent a minute, considering his subordinate’s words. The he sighed. “I believe you, Sergeant, but no one else will. Not with the number of folks who’ve come out of the woodwork claiming otherwise. Do whatever you have to do to stop this; I’ll take the heat.”

“Yes, sir, we will,” Greg promised, grateful that Commander Holleran, at least, believed them. Now if only he could figure out a halfway decent way to stop the madness.

* * * * *

It was, ironically, Lance who tipped the row of dominos when he burst out at dinner, “It’s like we’re in Hell or something.”

Without thinking, Spike quipped, “No, it’s Hill Valley, although I can’t imagine Hell being much worse!” The tech looked up from his meal, blinking at the quizzical look from Giles and the stunned looks from his team. “ _Back to the Future, Part Two_ ,” he explained to the Auror, before slumping down a bit further. “Too bad _we_ don’t have a Delorean time machine,” he lamented. “Then maybe we could keep all of this from ever happening.”

To Spike’s shock, Lou mused, “Who says we don’t.” Turning to Giles, he asked, “Any way to time travel…magically?”

Giles drew back, opening his mouth, then closing it. “Actually,” he replied, “Yeah, we do.” And for the first time since the explosion, there was a trace of _hope_ in his voice.


	2. Toronto's Division of Mysteries

Exhaustion forced the Narnian Knights – Roy and Giles newly inducted into their ranks – to bed down and wait for morning. But by nine o’clock, everyone was up and having breakfast. After breakfast, Roy and Giles were bullied into Team One’s bullet-proof vests and body armor while Team One and the kids changed into their Narnian armor.

Giles was rather jealous of the kids’ vambrace wand holsters; _he_ had to make do with an illusion to mask his sidearm holster and another illusion to make his wand holster _look_ like a sidearm holster. Anything marked ‘Auror’ was either hidden or left behind, along with Team One’s magical weapons, to keep the tech police and military forces from realizing the Knights weren’t on their side.

Team One’s trucks backed out of Eddie’s driveway and headed for what had, only the day before, been the main entrance into the Canadian Ministry of Magic. When they arrived, all of them were shocked to see that the old entrance had been destroyed, rubble marking where there had once been an old style phone booth. Getting inside turned out to be much easier than the Knights had expected…all they had to do was walk in, right past the military and police personnel milling around. The kids, hidden in the center of the group, never came close to being spotted.

* * * * *

Giles swallowed as he took the lead, edging past the rubble and destruction that had once been where he worked, where his friends had worked, and the center of his world’s government. Small fires, yet to be put out, raged here and there, and more than one corridor or intersection sheltered a body, bloody and still, with staring eyes. Team One bunched even closer, shielding the kids from the sight as much as they could.

The farther they traveled, the more evident the destruction became, as if the areas closer to the entrance had already been cleaned up. Giles nearly lost it when he turned a corner and saw Sally, a Muggleborn who worked for the Judicial Division as a part-time defense attorney, full-time Muggleborn advocate. Blue eyes stared at him, almost accusingly, and her short, spiky black hair was drenched with her own blood. Jules, right behind Giles, gently pushed him forward and past the fallen woman and the jagged remains of the wall she’d been impaled on.

“This is…” Wordy’s voice trailed off, fury and disbelief vibrating underneath his words.

“Everything we never wanted to see happen, Wordy,” Parker agreed, solemn.

“They never had a chance,” Lou observed, scowling.

Roy, near the back, gave a bitter laugh. “Gotta wonder who the bad guys are in this scenario.”

“At least it’s not us,” Sam growled, getting an agreeing nod from Jules.

“Here.” Giles’ voice was deathly soft; everyone craned to see where he’d stopped. A door, one of the few still intact, loomed ahead of them. “It’s a maintenance area, for if the elevators stop working, and it’s the only way to get down to the Division of Mysteries now that everything’s…gone.”

Giles pushed the door open; the Knights’ weapons came up, just in case, but there was nothing but a creaking noise from the door. Giles and Sam went first, followed by Wordy and Jules. The kids, still in the center of the group, went third, followed closely by their uncle and Lou; Ed and Roy fell in behind, the brothers sporting matching fierce expressions as they acted as the Knights’ rearguard.

At the bottom of the staircase, they emerged into a black-tiled corridor with no windows, no doors, and only torches for light. At the end of the corridor was a single, plain black door; the door was slightly ajar, a fact that made Giles slow even more. The wizard drew his gun, swallowing as he realized it would be the first time he fired the weapon in anger, but his wand would mark himself and his teammates as magical.

“I got it,” Sam murmured, “Just get the door.”

Giles nodded, moving so he was out of the line of fire; the rest of the Knights did likewise. Then the Auror pushed the door open, fast and hard.

Sam whipped around the door jamb, his weapon up. “SRU! Hands in the air!”

The sole occupant of the room, a man in robes, his hood up, cocked his head ever so slightly to the side. “Do come in,” he purred, “Your fellows have not yet breached this area, though it is only a matter of time.” The hood he wore was trimmed with gold runes, as were his robes, and he sounded unconcerned by Sam’s weapon and the threat of imminent invasion hovering over their heads.

Giles moved into the room as Sam lowered his weapon; he was followed by the rest of the Knights, with Ed closing the door behind himself and Roy. “You were expecting us?” the Auror asked incredulously.

The robed figure inclined his head. “You and your…Muggles…have shown yourselves to be resourceful, men – and woman – of skill and integrity. Stopping this war and saving thousands, if not millions, of innocent lives is far more important than the secrets within these halls. It was not inconceivable that you, Auror Onasi, would realize that a Time-Turner could be a way to halt this war before it began.” So saying, the Unspeakable turned and led the entire group into the next room. The room spun around them, the doors blurring a moment as they turned, before the figure ordered, “The Room of Time.”

The doors slowed, one door halting in front of them and opening as the figure strode forward. Inside, the Knights gaped a moment; the room was lit by a dancing, diamond-sparkling light and had clocks of every description hanging from the walls and on almost every surface inside the room. On one side, a display case showcased a wide variety of Time-Turners, each an hourglass inside a different setting which in turn was attached to a golden chain that acted as a necklace.

Giles shifted towards the display case, only for the robed figure to hold up a hand. “Not those, Auror Onasi.” He turned, regarding the Knights gravely. “Ordinary Time Turners can only go back five hours, _at most_.” The Knights traded unhappy looks; they were well past the five hour mark. “Fortunately, there is another option,” the Unspeakable continued smoothly, earning hopeful looks from the group.

He pulled a device from his robes: like the Time Turners on display, it was in a hourglass shape, but there the similarities halted. The hourglass was much larger than any of the other Time Turners and made of what looked like pure gold. It was housed in a bronze orb-like enclosure that permitted the hourglass to turn as it wished. The chain attached to the enclosure was a silvery metal that looked far stronger than ordinary silver and much longer than any of the chains on the other Time Turners.

“This, sir – and dame – Knights, is a Time Turner unlike almost any other. To my knowledge, only three such have ever been made and only _this_ one remains in Unspeakable hands.” The Unspeakable’s eyes twinkled under his hood at his use of the half-serious, half-joking name the Knights had started using at the Isle of the Blessed. “It has no limits that we know of, you may travel to any time in the past that you wish, though the consequences of such meddling can be…extreme.” He closed his hand over the Time Turner. “I must have your word that you will travel, at most, 24 hours into the past; any more than that puts the entire timeline in jeopardy.”

“You have it,” Greg agreed, gaze and voice as serious as any of them had ever heard it.

“My thanks, Sergeant Parker,” the Unspeakable rumbled, a smile just visible under his hood. “Ordinarily, I would also impart a number of laws to follow, but this situation…this _crisis_ …for both our worlds demands that I do not limit your options. Do what you must, break any laws you must; this war _must_ be stopped, regardless of the consequences.” The Unspeakable stepped back. “I will leave you to consider to when you will travel.”

“Wait, what happens when we use this thing…where will we end up?” Ed questioned.

The Unspeakable paused, considering the question. “You will end up where the majority of you were at the time you travel to. Close by, but not in sight of your past selves; this is part of every Time Turner, regardless of design.” He withdrew to a distance that put him out of casual earshot, but watched the Knights carefully.

Greg turned, meeting the eyes of his team. “Thoughts?”

“The Embassy attack,” Spike offered. “That’s what kicked all this off, right? If we can cut that off, we stop the war.”

“Okay,” Ed mused, “How? Our trucks are going to be with our past selves…so how do we get to the Embassy?”

“Have to avoid Winnie, too,” Wordy pointed out, unhappy even as he spoke. “She won’t know there are _two_ Team Ones.”

“We have a bigger problem than that,” Lance whispered, drawing attention. “When we go back, there’s going to be two versions of all of us; if we stop the war, they have no reason to go back in time…”

“Paradox heaven,” Lou breathed. “He’s right, we need a reason for our past selves to go back in time.”

Greg pulled out his binder, writing as fast as he could. “Okay, need a way to get to the Embassy; once we get there, I already have an idea or two on how to get in the door. Need a reason for our past selves to go back in time…anything else?”

A thump came from outside the room and shouts that were muffled by the door. “They’re coming,” Sam hissed, his weapon coming up again.

“We need a when, guys,” Roy reminded them as another thump, louder than the first, came from outside.

The SRU Sergeant swallowed hard, a plan coming together in his head; dangerous, but it was the only thing that came to mind. “I have a when.”

The Unspeakable hurried forward, the Time Turner swinging in his hand. The Knights bunched as close together as they could; the chain was tossed over all of them. “When?”

Greg ran a double-check of his mental math and prayed he was right. Then he told the Unspeakable when. The Unspeakable nodded and began to turn the Time Turner. Each turn made a strange sort of magic surge up around the group. Shouts preceded a crash as the door to the Room of Time was forced open. The Unspeakable made two more turns, then released the Turner and stepped back, drawing his wand.

As the world blurred around the Narnian Knights, gunshots rang out and they saw the Unspeakable fall. Several bullets also flew through where the Knights were standing, but Time itself had already pulled them away. When the blurring stopped, the Knights found themselves in the men’s locker room at SRU Headquarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the late posting. Today (well, actually, this whole _week_ ) has been crazy busy and I've _still_ got more to get done. In the span of a week, I have: searched for, found, and rented my very first apartment; purchased furniture for said apartment (still have more minor things to purchase); arranged for delivery of said furniture; signed up for utilities, and etc, etc, you get the idea. Move in day is tomorrow...sort of...my mattress won't be delivered until Monday, Internet won't be on till Tuesday, so...yeah...fun times. Thankfully, my parents are helping me, 'cause otherwise, I'd be up a creek without a paddle.
> 
> I'll do my best to keep up the update schedule, though Tuesday (also my second day of work) may be a bit dicey. Hope ya'll enjoyed, please, please, please comment and pray for me. I could really use your encouragement and thoughts on how the story/series is going so far.


	3. Two Team Ones

Greg disentangled himself from the chain first, flinging open the locker for the special gear; when he saw it was empty, his shoulders slumped. He’d miscalculated the time jump and they had no idea how the Time Turner worked. The rest of the group disentangled themselves from the Time Turner, automatically spreading out to get some breathing room; Giles took the Time Turner and tucked it away to be returned once the crisis was over.

“Sarge?” Wordy asked tentatively, “Isn’t this when we wanted? I mean, aren’t we supposed to avoid our past selves?”

Greg drew a breath in. “Wordy, think about it…we need a reason for our past selves to go back in time _and_ we need a way to get to the Embassy.”

“You want to _recruit_ our past selves to help stop the war?” Sam asked, shock and a touch of awe in his words. He looked at Giles, who looked just as stunned by the idea. “Can we do that?”

“I-I…we’re not _supposed_ to,” Giles stammered out. “Usually, the law is that you can’t tamper with past events and you avoid contact with your past self to keep from messing up the time line.” He considered, then added, his words slow, “But that Unspeakable basically told us to do _whatever_ we needed to do to stop the war. So…I guess we could…if that’s what necessary.”

“Wait, what about Jules and Lou?” Ed demanded, “If we recruit our past selves, how do Jules and Lou get rescued?”

Spike, though, had already figured that part out. “We tell them where Jules and Lou are being held, then they handle that part while we deal with the Embassy. Maybe they can even get in and out before the moon rises.” He grinned and bounced on his heels when his teammates gave him surprised looks. “Hey, if we’re _already_ going to change stuff, might as well change that too.”

The kids were grinning like maniacs, fully on board with the plan. “So, what, we ask Winnie to send Uncle Greg to the locker room?” Lance offered, drawing the adults’ attention to himself. He smirked. “Come on, ‘Lanna and I are the only ones who can go out there right now.”

Roy ruffled the teen’s hair; in truth, he wasn’t all that sure what _he_ could offer at this point…he’d basically been an extra gun along for the ride because Giles was _his_ partner. He wasn’t trained in any of the SRU stuff like his brother and didn’t have magic like his partner had. “Anything _I_ can do?” he asked uncertainly.

“Yeah,” Ed replied at once, casting a pointed look in Giles’ direction. “Stay with Giles and make sure he remembers to use his gun, not his wand, at the Embassy.” Giles ducked his head, abashed, but didn’t argue.

Jules and Lou traded uncertain looks of their own. If something went wrong, _they’d_ be the ones most likely to pay the price, but neither of them saw much of an option. “All or nothing,” Lou muttered, almost to himself.

Their Sergeant cast them an apologetic look, understanding the problem at once. “I’m afraid so,” he confirmed heavily. “If there were any other way…”

“No, Sarge,” Jules cut him off, “It’s our _job_ to save lives, no matter what. Let’s just get this done, okay?”

“Okay,” Parker agreed, waving his two _nipotes_ forward. “Tell Winnie you need to talk to me in the locker room, then get back here.” He twisted around, “Eddie, when he walks in here, I need you to get the door closed before he sees me, all right?”

“Copy,” Ed acknowledged, already taking up his position next to the door.

The kids scampered out and Greg let out a slow exhale. _I really hope this works._

* * * * *

They’d finished up their planning and they were just about ready to roll when Winnie called Parker over and told him, “Your kids showed up and they need to talk to you in the locker room.”

“Okay, Winnie, thanks.” Parker frowned as he headed for the locker rooms. The kids should have been in school, not at SRU Headquarters. Showing up like this…it wasn’t good, especially with all the school Alanna had missed due to her illness. Already planning a consequence or two, he strode into the locker room…only to come face-to-face with himself. The locker door slammed behind him and he whirled to see Eddie leaning against the door, shadows in his eyes that hadn’t been there only a few minutes ago. As he turned back, he spotted Jules and Lou, both with the same shadows as Eddie had, but focused on his double. Parker frowned, seeing, again, the same shadows in his double’s eyes, but snapped, “Who are you?”

His double stepped forward, a grim, determined look in his eyes. “I think you already know who _I_ am; now get it together, Parker. We’ve got less than four hours to stop a war.”

“A war?” Parker repeated, taken aback. “War with whom?”

“Tech versus magic,” Giles whispered, drawing Parker’s eyes at once. “The weres…they’re attacking _your_ Embassy.”

Parker paled dramatically, his jaw working a moment. After a few seconds, he looked at his double, both men with identical looks of determination. “Well, then, sounds like we don’t have any time to lose.”

* * * * *

Past Team One was utterly taken aback by both their doubles and the news that they now had to rescue their teammates _and_ stop a war. Greg, his plan already sorted out, took command of the joint meeting with a brisk, “Eddie, call your brother and Giles; we need them onboard and fully briefed, but we need to keep as much of the original timeline intact as possible.”

Lane looked hesitant, but, at his future self’s glare and Greg’s ‘hurry-up’ hand signal, speed-dialed his brother and put the phone on speaker. “Ed, what’s up?” past Roy demanded, sounding annoyed. “We dropped the suspect off with some patrol Aurors and we’re almost to the Auror Division to report in.”

“Roy, put your phone on speaker, please,” Greg requested, even as he signaled Spike. Spike nodded and tugged Scarlatti into a corner to hastily brief him on where Lou and Jules were in the target field. Past Roy grumbled, but put his phone on speaker. “Okay, Roy, Giles, we have some…new information…about the attacks.”

“The weres found something else out?” Onasi asked hopefully.

“Not exactly,” Lane quipped.

“Ed?” Past Roy asked warily.

Giles tapped the table, gesturing to the phone with a look Greg couldn’t quite interpret, but Greg opted to trust the Auror. He nodded permission. Giles leaned forward and said, very flatly, “Wilkins was right.”

On the other end of the phone, both men swore, though Onasi was louder than his partner. After a moment, Onasi demanded, “Right about what?”

Giles grimaced, but replied, “About ghosts.” He ignored the sharp looks he got from both his partner and his teammates at that; in his eyes were the ghosts of everyone who’d been in the magical British Embassy when it blew, the ghosts of those he’d walked past only an hour ago in a future he was now trying to prevent. The Auror drew in a deep breath. “Now listen carefully. The weres were wrong…the rogues _are_ stupid enough to attack the non-magical British Embassy, but we _have_ to keep up the illusion that we don’t _know_ they’re that idiotic until moonrise. You’re going to report in, just like you were going to before this call, but you and Roy _cannot_ get corralled into joining the security detail at the Embassy.”

Greg took over, his own expression grim. “Giles is right; we also need you two to split up. Roy, I need you to pick up _mio nipotes_ , because we have them here with us and we’re going to have to keep the timeline straight once tonight is over. Tell them what’s going on, Roy; believe me, they can handle this a lot better than _we_ are.” The candor drew a brief chuckle from around the room. “Once you’ve got the kids, link back up with Giles and all four of you follow Team One to a location I’m going to have Eddie text you, all right?”

Though hesitant, Past Roy agreed, with Onasi echoing that agreement. The two Spikes came back, Scarlatti looking a bit green; Spike had been very, _very_ blunt about what would happen after moonrise. “Got the location, Sarge,” Scarlatti reported, “We can go straight to Jules and Lou once we get there.”

Lou had raided the first aid kit in the locker room and he passed his cache over to Scarlatti. “Gonna need that for me,” he explained at the look he got, gesturing to his arm. “I, uh, got slammed against a sharp edge when those werewolf rogues jumped us.”

Past Team One flinched at that and Scarlatti stowed the first aid supplies. “Got it, buddy,” he chirped, with somewhat forced cheer.

Wordsworth peeked into the briefing room. “Sarge, we got lucky. Team Two’s down two guys, so they only took two trucks and their Command Truck. With that truck, the spare truck, and our Command Truck, we should be able to swing getting both teams on the road.”

Greg and Parker both looked at the husky constable, but Greg let Parker respond. “Good work, Wordy. Our original three trucks ready to go?”

“Gassed and ready to roll,” Wordsworth confirmed, stepping inside and wandering over to his double. He’d missed most of the impromptu ‘re-briefing’, so he would have to be briefed on the fly, but it didn’t look like that fact bothered him at all. He traded an awkward grin with his double, both intrigued by the time travel magic and unnerved by it.

Greg nodded sharply and ran over the rest, just to be clear. “Okay, you guys are going to head for the field, using the coordinates Spike gave you to locate Jules and Lou before the moon rises. _We_ will be headed for the Embassy, where we will tell them that we have a credible threat to their security that requires SRU intervention and stop the werewolf attack in its tracks there. Everyone clear?”

The Sergeant’s eyes ran around the room, inwardly amused that both Team Ones, where possible, had ended up next to their ‘doubles’…heck, even _he_ had ended up right next to his double. He turned, just a hair, noting that two ball caps were on the table next to each other. He scooped one up, noting that his double did the same; both Greg Parkers fitted their ball caps in place and straightened to face the upcoming hot call.

“Okay,”

“…let’s…”

“…keep…”

“…the…”

Both men stopped mid-sentence, trading startled looks as their teams laughed at them. A silent war of looks ensured, neither willing to let the other ‘surrender’ the privilege of their favorite phrase.

Lance broke the impasse with an impish, “Let’s keep the peace.” When both Parkers glared at him, he smirked. “Now we can go,” he remarked, as innocent as possible.

“Scamp,” Roy called from the other side of the table.

“Always,” Lance agreed, heading for the door. With identical sighs, his uncles followed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I've started my new job...Lord help me. The apartment is almost set up, but insert my private rant that my father missed part of my explanation and somehow got me an unwanted, unneeded (and ugly) new email address. I had everything _except_ the one thing that wouldn't work set up and he had the tech guy re-set up _everything_. I know I shouldn't complain, but now I have to call AT &T and see if I can get rid of ugly email. Not happy. Really not happy...I have enough email addresses to juggle without this one.
> 
> Anyway, hope ya'll enjoyed and have a better week than I'm having.


	4. Neo Death Eaters

Auror Giles Onasi reported what he now _knew_ was false information to Madame Locksley and promptly did the fastest talking of his _life_ to get out of being assigned to go to the Embassy. Once out of the office, he made a beeline to his own office, thinking furiously. If, as the future Parker had informed him, the rogue weres were attacking the _tech_ Embassy, then _someone_ must have pushed them to do it and he meant to find out who.

Once in his office, Giles dug out the notes he’d inherited from Wilkins, notes about both Team One and various unsavory individuals that Wilkins had never trusted. Ironically, Giles struck paydirt on the fifth name, Charles Henry Moffet.

* * * * *

_“Giles Onasi, right?”_

_Giles looked up at the speaker, one brow going up at the Auror he hadn’t met before. “Yeah, that’s me,” he confirmed._

_The silver-haired man offered his hand; the handshake was brusque and business-like. “I hear you’ve been fast-tracked, but you’re not a full Auror yet, Onasi, so I’m tapping you to help me out with a background check.”_

_Giles rose to his feet, grateful to abandon the paperwork in front of him. “Yes, sir.” He hesitated, then asked, “Um, and who are you again, sir?”_

_A smile flashed in his direction. “Auror Brian Wilkins, Onasi.” He turned, obviously expecting the other to keep up; Giles scrambled out from behind his desk and ducked around a disappointed intern who – as he found out later – had been about to ask him out to lunch. As he caught up, Wilkins continued, “We’re looking into one Charles Henry Moffet; he’s just applied to join the Division of Mysteries, which means an automatic background check by_ our _division. Start by pulling his school records and interviewing his professors.” The Auror halted and Giles skidded to a stop as well. “We want to know_ everything _, Onasi. Official and unofficial; who he dated, who he was friends with…heck, if he had a spill on the Quidditch field, I want that as well. Understand?”_

_“Yes, sir; I’ll get started on that right away, sir.”_

* * * * *

_“So, you’re…” Wilkins paused, reading the file in front of him again; against the wall, Giles did his best to blend in. “Mr. Charles Henry Moffet.”_

_The man sitting on the other side of the table had white hair, closely cropped, though he was only eight years older than Giles. His face was pleasant and full, his jaw area a bit round and his smile looked genuine. Genuine, that is, until you looked in his blue eyes, which held a cynical amusement and a smug confidence, but no real affection for anyone, save himself. “Doctor,” he corrected, with the air of a teacher pointing out a student’s error._

_Wilkins paused. “I beg your pardon?”_

_“I have a Muggle doctorate in engineering,” Moffet explained, “Therefore, the correct address is Doctor, not Mister.” He leaned forward, the very picture of helpfulness. “I can spell ‘engineering’ if you wish, Auror Wilkins.”_

_“No, thank you, sir,” Wilkins demurred, his expression still, hiding his thoughts. “_ Doctor _Moffet, my associate,” he gestured to Giles, “has collected your school records and all information he felt relevant. This, sir, is your chance to offer any additional information for our review.” Wilkins leaned back in his chair, an amused look of his own dancing in his eyes. “Is there anything you would like to share with us?”_

* * * * *

That had been the end of Giles’ involvement; he’d gotten his promotion shortly thereafter and then his career…and family…had intersected with one Nick Watson. Frowning, Giles started paging through the file Wilkins had put together on the acknowledged genius – top of his class at the Toronto School of Magic and widely considered to be the most powerful wizard of his generation. Next to Wilkins’ file, Giles opened up his notebook and started taking his own notes.

* * * * *

_“Well, what do you think of him?” the head of the Division of Mysteries inquired._

_Wilkins shifted, letting his expression say it all. He did_ not _want to be here; he’d submitted his report on_ Doctor _Moffet and that should have been the end of it. “What do you want to hear, sir?” he asked, a bit testily._

_The man dropped Wilkins’ report on the desk between them. “A very thorough report, but it doesn’t tell me what_ you _think of him, Auror Wilkins.” The man leaned back, a shrewd look in his silver eyes._

_Wilkins shrugged. “He’s a Muggleborn, from a family with considerable privilege in the Muggle world. He managed to go to the Toronto School of Magic_ and _get a Muggle doctorate in what he calls engineering at the same time. Well-liked by all his professors; to a man they gave him glowing reviews.”_

_“But?”_

_The Auror hesitated an instant. “Not liked by his classmates, sir. Most of them, especially as he got older, tended to call him sadistic and cruel, though he never acted like that in sight of any professors. A few girls young Onasi tracked down all but had a breakdown when his name was mentioned…I found scars on them. Took some time, but I managed to get them to tell me what happened. Seems he enjoyed taking his ‘lady-friends’ for a nice relaxing stroll. Once they were out of sight, he’d Apparate them to a desert – none of them could tell me which desert – and he’d tie them up and sit there with a canteen of water as the sun came up.” Wilkins’ eyes narrowed. “He’d dangle the canteen in their faces and drink from it…right in front of them. The scars I found…they were all caused by severe sunburn and dehydration. He’d bring them back before they died and tell them that if they told, he’d leave them out there the next time.” A breath, then Wilkins added, “I did some checking…all of the girls he did this to were fellow Muggleborns and the Muggle please men have missing persons records of girls with the same general description, all during the same time period.”_

_The Head Unspeakable didn’t respond as he absorbed that. “None of that is in your report, Auror Wilkins.”_

_“No,” Wilkins agreed. “I was getting pressure to finish up and submit that report, so I did…then one of the ladies finally came in and admitted what had happened. I re-interviewed all of them, just to be sure, then I checked the Muggle records.”_

_“I see,” The Unspeakable mused, pulling out one other piece of parchment. “I suppose that explains why you felt the need to anonymously submit this, then.”_

_Busted, Wilkins hung his head. It was the please report on Gabrielle Admuir, one of the Muggle women_ he _believed Moffet had killed._

* * * * *

Giles’ eyes widened as he read further, imagining his late friend’s reaction to finding the trail between Moffet and a group of Death Eaters who’d fled Britain right after the Second War. The tech-born genius had, somehow, managed to snow a group of purebloods into believing that he, too, was a pureblood and more, that he _supported_ their agenda, right up to and including plans to conquer and rule the tech world.

* * * * *

_“You are certain, Auror Wilkins?” the Head Unspeakable demanded, “He is resurrecting the_ Death Eaters _?”_

_“Trying to, at any rate,” Wilkins agreed grimly, dropping his latest findings on the Unspeakable’s desk. “He’s managed to persuade them, don’t ask me how, that resurrecting that monster, Voldemort, is beyond what they can do at this point, but he seems to think that the Muggle world can be conquered easily…one might say, on a_ whim _.”_

_“You do not agree?”_

_The Auror shrugged. “No idea,” he admitted, “I don’t know enough about Muggles to have an opinion either way, but as far as_ I’m _concerned, it’s a moot point. To attack the Muggles would be a gross violation of the Statute of Secrecy, not to mention, it would be wrong.”_

_“Very wise,_ Senior _Auror Wilkins, very wise, indeed,” the Unspeakable praised; he ignored Wilkins’ start at his sudden rank change. “Dr. Moffet is gravely incorrect; a war with the Muggle world would be an unmitigated disaster for our world and_ every _effort should be made to prevent such a war.”_

* * * * *

Giles leaned back from both sets of notes, his eyes widening. A war…between worlds… _exactly_ what the future versions of himself, his partner, and Team One had described. The Auror went through the rest of the names, just to be thorough, but none of the other names even came _close_ to fitting. Then he dug through his desk again, locating the little Post-It notes that Roy had given him as a joke and writing down a note for, well, _himself_ to find once his ‘future’ self…oh, Merlin, that was weird…came back to the office.

Then he dug out his magical phone, hesitating an instant before calling Jules. ‘His’ Jules was still being held captive, so hopefully, he’d be connected to the ‘other’ Jules.

“Constable Callaghan,” Jules greeted briskly.

“Constable, Auror Onasi,” Giles replied, “I’ve got some information for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I survived my first week...and oh, boy, it was sure a dozy! For anyone looking to get a delivery from Home Depot, make _sure_ you give them the correct phone number the _first_ time, 'cause trying to get an updated phone number to their delivery guys is impossible. My parents finally had to contact the delivery company _themselves_. And even _then_ , if not for a nice girl in my new apartment complex's leasing office, I still wouldn't have my (unassembled) desk.
> 
> Please pray for me, guys. This may sound stupid, but this is really the first time I've been completely on my own and right now it feels very overwhelming and I'm scared. I fully intend to respond to those comments I haven't gotten a chance to yet, but that will have to be tomorrow (or Sunday). Even so, I treasure every comment and I also very much look forward to them. No pressure.


	5. What Happened to the Pup?

Roy didn’t immediately pick up Sergeant Parker’s kids; instead, he decided to do a little poking around of his own. The Guns ‘n’ Gangs cop headed for a bar that tended to be a bit…on the odd side. He knew why it was odd now; the bar was next to one of the lesser known gateways between the worlds and thus was convenient as a meeting place for unsavory magical sorts – and their equally unsavory activities.

When the cop walked in, he ignored the way a group at the back tensed up and sat down as heavily as he could manage on a bar stool right in front of the bartender. He flicked down cash for a drink, giving the bartender a tiny smirk. The bartender scooped up the cash, palming the note Roy had tucked in the wad and reading it as he poured Roy’s drink. The man’s eyes widened just a touch, but he gave nothing away as he placed Roy’s drink in front of him. Roy snatched up the drink, downing half in one gulp; the bartender’s slight nod was all the confirmation Roy needed.

A sound brought Roy’s attention to his left – it was always the left, never the right – as a drop-dead gorgeous woman sat down and gave him a flirtatious look. “Rough day?” she asked sympathetically.

Roy groaned as dramatically as he dared, letting the drink slam down a bit on the bar. “I swear, my partner thinks he can _magic_ his way out of everything,” he complained. “And I just keep telling him, you can’t magic your way out of a bullet.” The cop threw back the rest of his drink and waved for another one. “You?” he asked, turning towards the lady and making sure to lean just a little harder on the bar, blinking a little.

She pursed her lips for a moment, then smiled at him; Roy saw the faintest edge of her canines flash…longer than most people’s canines. “Well, my boss is making us stay late tonight…some sort of big party going on at the office. I figured I’d get one last hurrah before my break is over.” To emphasize her point, she batted her eyes.

The cop gave every appearance of being reluctant as he swallowed down his next drink. “Must be quite the party,” he drawled after a minute or two. “Company party or can anyone come?”

The woman’s smile grew wider and she leaned in, her eyes giving a sparkle that Roy felt tug at his mind. “Well…officially, it’s a bit of an office party, but I don’t think the boss would mind a few…extras.”

After a few more minutes and another drink, Roy let the woman pull him towards a door that he knew led into a dark alley…even in broad daylight, the alley was shadowed and dark. He made sure to stagger just a bit as she led him; outside, her façade fell away as she turned, her fangs already bared. She froze, her eyes going wide at the barrel of Roy’s nine-mil Glock less than an inch from her nose. Roy shoved her, pushing her back against the opposite wall of the alley and giving her a ‘gotcha’ smirk.

“Ah, ah, ah, don’t scream,” he chided as she made to do just that. “You know and I know, all I gotta do is toss you to the side and it’s bye-bye.” The vampire swallowed hard as she looked over at the sunlight less than a meter away. “This party of yours…it’s at the Embassy, isn’t it?”

The vampire snapped back to her captor, shocked by his knowledge, both of magic and of the attack. “And what if it is?” she demanded. “What business is it of yours, Muggle?”

Roy tisked at her, pointedly adjusting his weapon’s angle. “Now, I know this won’t kill you,” he remarked, “But I bet it hurts and I still only have to toss ya.” She gulped again. “So, I’m gonna ask you once. Where’s the pup?”

“Pup?” Her voice dripped innocence…innocence that no veteran cop believed in a million years. Roy grabbed her and started to haul her sideways; she yelped in panic and pulled back, her eyes darting between his gun and the sun-lit street. “Okay, okay, okay.” Roy stopped pulling her and arched one brow. “The pup is going to be at the Embassy…the boss is keeping her under wraps until then, even from us. After the party, Fenris Ulf can have the pup; the boss promised him that…” Roy snorted his disbelief, “…but everyone knows the Aurors won’t let her survive…everyone but Fenris; he thinks she’ll cut right through those arrogant wizards.” Her eyes turned pleading. “Please, I don’t know anything else.”

Roy nodded thoughtfully. “That’s everything?” he asked, casual to the last.

“Yes, I swear,” the vampire babbled.

“Okay,” Roy acknowledged. Relief flashed in her eyes right before Roy threw her sideways into the sun; the vampire didn’t even have time to scream before she dusted. “Thanks for the info,” Roy drawled as he walked out of the alley and headed for his car.

As he put his car in gear, he made two calls, one to Lou, following the same logic as his partner had when _he’d_ called Jules, and one to Jo-Ann; the werewolf had given Team One and by extension Roy her contact information. Jo-Ann promised to pass on the information about the rogue werewolves and their associates being _stupid_ enough to attack the ‘Muggle’ Embassy. Hopefully, Jo-Ann and her fellow pack leaders could get the word out and cause enough of a backlash that Team One wouldn’t have to deal with quite as many bad guys.

Roy checked his watch and nodded to himself. He had just enough time to get some coffee before he had to pick up the kids and tell them what was going on. And he knew _just_ the place.

* * * * *

Rita Skeeter’s reputation as a gossip reporter with very few facts and mounds of misinformation and speculation was, in truth, a bit of a disservice to the woman. Certainly, she enjoyed making mountains out of insignificant or misinterpreted information, but she had a positive _gift_ for discovering juicy details that people wanted to keep hidden. And her current assignment, although she could never publish, was such a delicious story. A mysterious family Head, who didn’t live in Britain and had actually magically changed his family name and selected _Neville Longbottom_ , the son of the former House of Lestrange’s victims as his family’s proxy on the Wizengamot. Rumors and speculation in Britain were rife, but held little of _true_ value, hence her visit to Toronto, Canada, where the new family Head was said to be from.

Rita pouted prettily at a young Auror, batting her lashes and careful to _verbally_ promise nothing, even as her body language said it all. “Just a bit of research,” she promised him.

“Right,” he drawled, though his eyes wandered enough that she knew she was getting somewhere. “Into the activity of Death Eaters here in Toronto during the War.” His skepticism dripped from his voice.

The reporter gave her soon-to-be source another innocent eyelash bat. “It’s important that the truth is never forgotten, so that something like the War never happens again,” she declared, putting all the sincerity she could muster into the words.

When he sighed heavily, she knew she’d won. In another timeline, an annoyed Auror Giles Onasi would have interrupted at this point, chasing her off, but here, he had more important issues on his plate. And so, Rita Skeeter was given access to the public records archive…with _no_ supervision as the Aurors were all called to deal with the expected werewolf attack. Inside of an hour, Skeeter was in the _Auror_ records and found exactly what she was looking for in the files of the Auror Strategic Response Unit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's week two and all is...boring. I've spent most of my time arguing with my company laptop about reimbursement documents and reading client documents about the program I'll be working on. It's still hard to be completely on my own, but I'm surviving so far. Lord willing, I'll keep on surviving.
> 
> Thank you all for your support and please keep praying for me, my classmates, and my coworkers. Have a great week and Happy Reading,sunstarunicorn


	6. In Defense of the Innocent

Greg breathed an internal sigh of relief that the British Embassy’s security had taken Team One’s information seriously and begun evacuating the Ambassador and everyone else who lived and worked at the British Embassy. In another ten minutes, the residence would be empty except for his team; though Spike, Lou, and Wordy were already setting up their hastily conceived trap to make it _look_ like there was a party going on once the sun went down in…Greg checked his watch…two hours.

The two SRU trucks and Team One’s Command Truck were parked in the back lot of the Embassy, to keep any last minute scouts from seeing a police presence. The head security guard halted in front of the Sergeant, all but saluting as Parker looked up. “We’ve got everyone out now. Keep us up to date, Sergeant Parker.”

“Okay, you got it,” Greg agreed, shaking the man’s hand. “Thanks for all your help here.”

The man gave him a little wink. “No, _thank you_ , sir, for everything you’re doing.”

He left before Greg could figure out what to say, so the Sergeant just smirked to himself, wondering why magicals _really_ thought they could hide from the tech world when the two worlds overlapped so often and in so many unexpected places. “Okay, team, the last of the security guards are leaving now, so we’ve got the place to ourselves.”

“Copy that,” Ed acknowledged. “Spike, how’s our distraction going?”

“Just about done, Ed,” Spike reported. “Just have to hook up the last speaker and set up a few more cut-outs and we’re ready to roll.”

Roy and Giles rounded the corner, the two men hefting a metal cage they’d found buried in the back of the kitchen area. “Got a cage for the pup,” Roy announced, looking a bit out of breath. “Giles says we can trap her in here and keep her from hurting anyone.”

Parker nodded, understanding. “Is that big enough?” he asked, peering at the dusty, old cage, which looked large enough to hold a small dog, but not a larger animal.

“I’ll enlarge it and strengthen the bars once we get it into position,” Giles reassured the Sergeant. “The real problem is going to be getting the pup inside.”

“Why?” Jules inquired from the stairs, Sam just behind her. “Sarge, we’ve got all the exits secured; once they’re inside, they aren’t getting out.”

“Good work, you two,” Parker approved, before offering Giles an arched brow.

Onasi sighed. “Werewolves hunt humans,” he reminded the group. “If she smells humans, she’ll come after us and ignore the cage.” He bit his lip. “Even _if_ her pack uses Wolfsbane…which is a fifty/fifty shot ‘cause it’s so expensive…the rogues won’t have given her a dose for today, which means the Wolfsbane is useless.”

“So how do we get her into the cage?” Sam questioned as Roy and Giles moved the cage into a corner of the room they’d chosen as their best place to make a stand.

Giles inspected the location, then pulled his wand and cast several spells. The dust vanished, the cage grew in size until it would comfortably hold a werewolf pup, and the metal bars, rusty and old, turned to fresh metal, gleaming and well-secured. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I guess I could _try_ throwing a Banishing Charm at her, but if that doesn’t work…”

Before they could debate any farther, Greg’s phone rang. He looked down, his brow furrowing, then picked up, “Sergeant Parker.”

“Sir?” Winnie questioned from the other end. “Is everything okay? Have you found Jules and Lou yet?”

Parker turned, checking his watch quickly before answering. “Winnie, we’re still enroute,” he lied, wishing he didn’t have to lie to her, but they _had_ to keep the timeline straight and, right now, as far as Winnie knew, Team One was rescuing Jules and Lou, not setting up for a werewolf attack on the British Embassy.

Unfortunately, just then Jules started tossing out ideas for getting the werewolf pup into the cage…loud enough that Winnie heard her. On the other end of the phone, Winnie’s jerk of surprise was audible; Greg closed his eyes and suppressed the urge to groan. “Sir, I’m calling OMAC Project,” Winnie snapped, recovering her composure.

“Belay that,” Greg ordered sharply; OMAC Project meant Winnie thought the whole of Team One was magically compromised.

“Authorization?” Winnie demanded, just as sharp.

Oh, he was _so_ going to get his _nipotes_ for talking him into using _comic books_ as a basis for the emergency codes. With a mental sigh, Greg replied, “Avengers Assemble.” He grimaced, thinking fast…when they’d come up with the codes, a situation like this one had never been considered.

Spike saved him, hissing over the comm, “Tell her _Back to the Future_ and 1955, part two.”

Greg dutifully passed that on and got a gasp from Winnie. “Anything…anything I can do?” she asked, a fearful note in her voice.

“We’re working on it,” Greg told her. “We’ve already cut off the worst of it…we hope…and now we just have to handle the fallout. But I’ve got to go.” He clicked off and turned. “Have we got a solution?”

“Animagi,” came from above; Greg closed his eyes with another mental groan. Alanna came down the stairs, her brother following. “Animagi can get close to a transformed werewolf without being attacked,” she remarked airily.

Roy looked confused; Giles sighed. “That’ll work,” Giles agreed flatly, “But we don’t _have_ any Animagi here.” Roy’s face fell at that. “Even if I called in, I don’t think any of our Aurors are Animagi…it’s a fairly rare skill.”

“Oh yes we do have Animagi here,” Lance corrected grimly. “But only one of us is big enough to corral a werewolf.” Alanna gave her brother an outraged look and he shook his head at her. “Admit it, ‘Lanna, you’re not big enough to do this.”

“You two?” Roy asked, still puzzled by the whole ‘Animagi’ concept.

“You aren’t registered,” Giles protested weakly, then he flushed at the raised eyebrows he got from all the other adults…and the kids.

“Neither were the Marauders,” Lance pointed out, smirking at Onasi’s grimace. He swung towards his uncle. “Look, I know you’d rather ‘Lanna and I stay out of the fray, but I don’t think a Banishing Charm is going to do it…most magical creatures tend to be magically resistant and I’m guessing that includes werewolves.” He bit his lip. “The only other option is…”

Greg held up a hand…they _all_ knew what the only other option was. “I don’t like it,” he agreed, solemn. “And I want you to hear me; this does _not_ mean that you two getting involved is _okay_ , understand? If I had my way, you two would be safe at home and nowhere near this place. Neither one of you is anywhere _near_ old enough for this type of thing, for what we’re going to have to do tonight.”

“The bad guys don’t care,” Lance pointed out softly. “They never have, never will. And this is _our_ world, too, Uncle Greg.” He paused, considering a second. “Both of them,” he finished.

It wasn’t okay, wasn’t _fair_ , but they were out of time and options. “Okay, team, listen up. We’re going to have Lance handle the pup while we handle the rest. Start getting set up; since we managed to evacuate everyone, Giles, use your magic as much as you want.”

“Understood,” Giles acknowledged as the rest of the team called out “Copy” or “Copy that”.

* * * * *

When the moon rose, Team One was barricaded on the landing just above the location Giles had marked as the most likely Portkey entry point. A juvenile howl shattered the silence as a werewolf pup appeared, a necklace around her neck and madness in her eyes. She had the typical short snort, human-like eyes, and tufted tail of a werewolf, but otherwise looked like a gray wolf pup, her coat full and dark, with a puppy’s large paws and blue eyes. Next to the pup were several men and women, each in a dark robe and most of them sporting white, skull-like masks. Those without masks bared their teeth, their canines lengthening into fangs as Team One watched in appalled shock.

Normally, Sergeant Parker could almost always be counted on to talk first, shoot second, but not tonight. Grim, he signaled his team. Flash bangs and smoke grenades flew, surrounding the Death Eaters, vampires, and one werewolf with noise, light, and smoke. The werewolf yipped in fear, drawing back, but the vampires snarled and charged forward. Giles shifted, staying behind cover, but exposing his wand enough to cast, “ _Veru Silva_ **(1)** _!_ ” at one of the vampires about to jump the stairs and the barricade. The vampire dusted mid-jump as the stake buried itself in his heart, briefly jutting out his back before he dusted.

Sam yanked the pin on a new innovation of the goblins and hurled it into the middle of the remaining vampires. It went off, drawing anguished howls as holy water ripped through the vampires like a hot knife through butter; they dusted moments later, leaving just the startled Death Eaters and the werewolf pup.

“Sarge, vamps are down,” Sam reported, sweeping his submachine gun towards the Death Eaters, “Just got the subjects and the werewolf pup now.”

Team One hit the ground as the Death Eaters responded to the loss of their vampire allies with Killing Curses; the Death Eaters hurled the curses with great abandon, pinning the defending officers down for the moment. Giles and Roy, slightly off to the side, were able to avoid the flood of curses and started crawling for a better angle.

On the ground, the werewolf pup finally recovered from the shock of being Portkeyed into a strange, unfamiliar area and the effects of the flash bangs and smoke grenades. Her nose twitched, her little muzzle rising as she scented humans nearby. An eerie howl rose above the chaos of Killing Curses and the few gunshots Team One were able to fire back at their attackers. The werewolf charged for the stairs as another animal yowl rang out. Even the Death Eaters started back as the gryphon threw itself over the banister and dove for the werewolf, shrieking challenge. Talons flashed, bowling the youngster over and knocking her away from the stairs. Wordy hurled a Peruvian Instant Darkness grenade, the only one Team One had been able to get from the goblins. The entire ground floor went dark as the powder flew outwards, wreathing the area in inky night.

Illishar snarled, forcing the pup back and away from _his_ humans; the gryphon understood very well what would happen if his humans were forced to deal with the pup. He was careful not to nick or scratch the pup as he drove her towards the cage; the confused pup yipped at him, demanding passage.

**_No,_ ** Illishar growled, his tail lashing angrily, **_You may not have my humans, werewolf._** He judged the distance, hissing, then snatched the pup up and flew forwards, throwing her just a little through the cage door and landing on top to slam the door shut. Below him, the pup recovered and charged the door, yelping as she bounced off the magically shielded bars. The gryphon threw his head back, screeching in triumph and took to the air again, throwing himself away from his former location as quickly as he could. Three green beams impacted the wall behind where he’d been perching, but the gryphon was gone.

“That’s the signal,” Lou called.

“Okay, everyone cover!” Ed ordered. As the team ducked down, he yelled, “Giles, _now!_ ”

“ _Solarius Maxima_ **(2)** _!_ ” Giles roared, angling his wand at the ground floor.

As the Peruvian Instant Darkness evaporated, one of the Death Eaters snarled, “ _Avada Kedavra!_ ” angling his wand at the exposed Auror; Roy yanked his partner to the side and down, the green curse missing Onasi by millimeters.

But most of the Death Eaters had been caught off guard by Giles’ spell and they reeled away from the sudden burst of sunlight in the room; above them, Greg Parker bowed his head a moment, wishing it hadn’t come to this. When his eyes opened, grim determination blazed out of topaz-hard eyes. “Team One, open fire,” he ordered.

Submachine guns came up over the barricade, their owners checking their aim for the briefest of moments before opening fire. In less than twenty seconds, it was done; the Death Eaters were down and the last of the threat to _both_ worlds halted in its tracks. Team One moved, Wordy and Sam taking down the barricade to let their teammates through and the rest of the team heading down the stairs with yells of, “SRU! Don’t move!” and “Weapons on the ground!”

Wands were kicked away from their owners and Team One flipped the dead subjects over and cuffed them. In the cage nearby, the werewolf pup let out a howl and threw herself even harder against the bars; when she couldn’t get through, she turned on herself, biting and slashing at her own body. Giles positioned himself between Team One and the cage, his face pale, ready to keep anyone and everyone away from the werewolf attacking herself.

“Giles, get that cage out of sight,” Greg ordered briskly. “I’ll call Commander Holleran and let him know what happened here; hopefully, we can keep this from blowing up in our faces.” He turned towards his nephew, still in his gryphon form. “Go. Tell ‘Lanna to alert the others.”

Illishar **churr** -ed an acknowledgement and threw himself skyward, reaching the upper landing in seconds and tumbling over the banister. Greg turned back to his team and the aftermath of a day he’d now lived twice over, with, thankfully, different endings.

 

[1] Latin for ‘wood stake’

[2] Latin for ‘Sun greatest’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, end of the week and still all is...boring. Hopefully, next week we will actually get to start _doing_ stuff, but I'll just have to wait and see. I anticipate another boring Friday and then I can cruise into the weekend and get some stuff done. I have, however, discovered that Indian food is not for me. Way too much spice. Glad ya'll have enjoyed so far and kudos to the Ao3 Commentor who caught onto an emerging storyline in the prior chapter. I invite you all to see if you can spot what he did. (By The Way, sorry to my Commentor if I used the wrong pronoun.)
> 
> Have a great weekend and Happy Reading!sunstarunicorn


	7. Repairing the Present

Flamewings flamed away from the British Embassy, reappearing above a lonely field in the middle of nowhere. She winged downwards, spying her destination: a grouped area of trucks with their headlights on. The phoenix swooped down, letting out a snatch of song to alert the group to her arrival. Her brother’s past self turned, offering her an arm to land on; she obliged, settling in place and ruffling her brother’s hair with one outspread wing. Her own past self was wide-eyed, taking in the proof that a Time Turner had, indeed, been used.

After a moment, Flamewings backwinged off her brother’s arm and _blurred_ ; her boots made a bit of a thump as she landed. “It’s done,” she announced, “We stopped the attack.”

“Now the fun part,” Lane grumbled, his brother nodding agreement.

Alanna sighed, understanding, even though she didn’t agree, not entirely anyway. “Armor, yes, but no magic-side weapons,” she ordered as she moved towards the trucks. At the sounds of confusion, she looked back. “We left everything that could mark us as magical behind, except our wands. So, leave your magic-side weapons in the trucks.” She swiveled towards Onasi and the past Roy, inclining her head in approval when she saw that they’d already been shanghaied into Team One’s body gear and bullet-proof vests.

* * * * *

_“Okay, team, we know where we’re going,” Parker called as they reached the field. “Eddie, keep that sword of yours handy, my double said_ you _found them in the original timeline.”_

_“Copy that, Boss,” Lane acknowledged, checking his sword once he’d swung out of the driver’s seat. “Northeast corner?”_

_“Yeah,” Scarlatti agreed, “In an old building; at least that’s what_ my _double said.”_

_Team One moved as a unit through the field, weapons up and ready, but they didn’t see any signs of life. The delay meant they’d arrived at the field right at sunset, so they now had, at best, twenty-three minutes to find their teammates and escape before the werewolves attacked._

_Though they moved as quickly as they dared, the field was large enough that it took ten minutes to reach the target location. Wordsworth rammed the door down with his shoulder, grinning in triumph as Callaghan and Young looked up from their location._

_“Got ‘em!” the husky constable called as Lane ducked past him and dropped down into the small pit, drawing his sword as he landed._

_“What took you so long?” Young quipped weakly. As reported, the constable had a nasty looking gash on his shoulder._

_Lane already knew what to say; his own double had given him a play-by-play before the two teams split up. “Wards,” he growled, glaring at the chains his teammates were bound with. “Just like when Sam and Spike went missing,” he added, drawing looks of comprehension from the pair._

_Unlike his double, he didn’t roar as he brought his sword down at the chains. The chains, though reinforced, didn’t stand a chance as his sword blazed yellow on its way down. Lane’s vambraces, too, glowed yellow in the darkness, giving an extra flare as the sword impacted the chains; the chains shattered, their power broken by the Narnian-forged blade._

_“Okay, let’s go,” Braddock called, “We got eleven minutes left.”_

_Lane hefted Young up far enough to be grabbed by Wordsworth and boosted Callaghan up right afterwards. Scarlatti grabbed Callaghan while Parker hauled Lane up; Braddock kept his eyes and weapon on the move in the background. Outside, the group abandoned any pretense of stealth for pure speed; Wordsworth even swung Young up on his shoulders so they could move faster as they bolted for the trucks._

_With five minutes to spare before moonrise, they reached the trucks, scrambled in, and peeled out._

* * * * *

Alanna nodded thoughtfully to herself as she listened to the rundown of how the rescue had gone; Spike had been right, the foreknowledge of just _where_ Jules and Lou were being held captive had spared the lives of the rogue pack. A part of her wondered if they would end up paying for that, but she pushed that aside; what was, was.

The drive back had a tension in it; the past Team One not looking forward to what they’d have to do once they went back in time themselves. In truth, Alanna suspected that once they went back, it would close the loop and the timeline would restabilize. She checked her watch, musing that they were actually several hours early, but it couldn’t be helped.

* * * * *

A man was waiting outside of the usual entrance to the Toronto Ministry of Magic; he gestured them over, his gaze expectant. Once the Narnian Knights, all past and one future, came up, he turned and led them to a different entrance. They headed down several flights of stairs, each one spiraling deeper and deeper into the earth. At the bottom of the stairs was a door, plain and black, with no markings on it. Their guide opened it and led them to the Room of Time; the past Knights gawped at the room, but all Alanna saw was the flash of a wand and the spray of red as the Unspeakable who’d helped them fell.

Inside the room, a man in robes, his hood up, waited for them. His hood was trimmed with gold runes, as were his robes; Alanna bit back her gasp. “Thank you, Eric, you may go now,” the Unspeakable rumbled. Their guide bowed and departed, closing the door behind him. The Unspeakable waited several moments as the footsteps outside faded, then turned to Alanna, bowing deeply to her. “My Lady,” he greeted somberly.

Alanna drew back in surprise; the past Knights looking just as surprised as she felt. “Sir?” she questioned, forcing her voice not to shake.

Under the hood, the Unspeakable smiled, just a little. He straightened, turning to the past Knights. “You are some hours early, but I do not think that will make any difference in the long run,” he remarked. “Save for one factor.” He waved Young forward and drew his wand, casting a healing charm on Young’s arm. “There, that should do it.” The Unspeakable waved to the display of Time Turners housed against the wall. “Ordinary Time Turners have the limit that they can go back five hours, at most. Now, although we are actually within that limit, your future selves were not and so, the timeline must be maintained.”

He pulled a device from his robes: like the Time Turners on display, it was in a hourglass shape, but there the similarities halted. The hourglass was much larger than any of the other Time Turners and made of what looked like pure gold. It was housed in a bronze orb-like enclosure that permitted the hourglass to turn as it wished. The chain attached to the enclosure was a silvery metal that looked far stronger than ordinary silver and much longer than any of the chains on the other Time Turners.

“This, sir – and dame – Knights, is a Time Turner unlike almost any other. To my knowledge, only three such have ever been made and only _this_ one remains in Unspeakable hands.” The Unspeakable’s eyes twinkled under his hood at his use of the half-serious, half-joking name the Knights had started using at the Isle of the Blessed. “It has no limits that we know of, you may travel to any time in the past that you wish, though the consequences of such meddling can be…extreme.” He closed his hand over the Time Turner. “I must have your word that you will travel only once into the past, to a point that Lady Calvin will give me; any more than that puts the entire timeline in jeopardy.”

“You have it,” Parker agreed, gaze and voice as serious as any of them had ever heard it.

“My thanks, Sergeant Parker,” the Unspeakable rumbled, a smile just visible under his hood. “Ordinarily, I would also impart a number of laws to follow, but this situation…this _crisis_ …was resolved in defiance of a number of our time travel laws. I dare not instruct you to change that _now_. Do what you must to maintain the timeline.” After a few seconds, he turned to Alanna. “To when will they travel?”

Alanna drew in a breath, reviewing that awful scene in her mind. With her eyes closed in concentration, she told the Unspeakable when. She opened her eyes and watched as the past Knights bunched as close together as they could; the Time Turner’s chain was tossed over all of them. The Unspeakable frowned to himself, then began to turn the Time Turner; Alanna watched in fascination as magic and time began to twist around the group, rising higher with each turn of the Time Turner. The Unspeakable stepped back as he finished the turns and Time itself pulled the past Knights away.

The young Wild Mage let her breath out all at once. It was over, time was fixed and the war stopped before it could begin. A minute, two minutes ticked by, in silence. Then Alanna clutched her head as new memories appeared in her mind, not replacing any of her own, but settling in alongside them…a day lived twice over became thrice over as her past self’s memories imprinted themselves on hers.

“Easy, my Lady,” the Unspeakable murmured in her ear; after a heartbeat, she realized he was holding her up. “I suspected this would happen once Time was reestablished; it will pass.”

Alanna looked up at him, noting silver eyes that glinted just a bit. “Does that mean we’ll forget what happened?”

A shake of the head. “It may fade, my Lady, but it will not disappear from your mind, I fear.” He sighed, settling her on her feet and pushing back his hood to reveal shaggy white hair with locks that fell into his eyes. “Come, my Lady, let us away to your uncle and his team…I have much to tell them and three Muggle trucks to return.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, all is boring on the Western front. So much for: we're getting started on Monday with this project. Also much fighting over the meaning of the word 'is'. In a purely technobabble sense of course. Not fun and I don't anticipate it going much better today. Ah well, at least we have both the 4th and the 5th off.
> 
> Happy Independence Day, my fellow Americans!


	8. Lingering Consequences

At SRU Headquarters, the atmosphere was more solemn than triumphant; every member of Team One still remembered a future that, thankfully, no longer existed. Though their actions had been necessary, going lethal was something all of them hated and they felt…unsettled…that the Auror Division had made the call to put the _entire_ night’s events under the Official Secrets Act, hiding the evidence of the attack on the tech British Embassy along with any _hint_ of magic. Sergeant Parker suspected there had been a few _Obliviations_ used, but there was nothing he or his team could do about that now.

The triple sets of memories from the day were harder to deal with, but, again, they had little choice _but_ to deal…though Roy was rather smug that _his_ past self had been able to get the better of a _vampire_ , all by himself. Giles shut the smugness up with the counterargument that Roy had been _stupid_ to go with a _vampire_ , _alone_ , in the first place. After that, Roy sulked until Ed deliberately provoked a minor argument with his brother…an argument the rest of the team either egged on or ignored.

When a man arrived, escorting his niece, Greg snapped to attention, his team, Roy, and Giles following suit. Lance studied the man curiously, but otherwise didn’t react. The two new arrivals entered the briefing room and Alanna tapped the controls to lower the barrier. Once the barrier was down, the man inclined his head. “And so we meet again Sergeant Parker, Constables.”

Greg’s eyes narrowed; the man who stood there so calmly was the werewolf hunter. “You instigated that hot call to see how we’d react to werewolves, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” Blunt, unvarnished. Silver eyes met brown without a flicker of regret. “My only regret is that I put your constables in jeopardy by releasing four of the rogue weres from my custody. It made things much more…complicated than we had hoped.”

“You knew?” Giles choked out. “You _knew_ that someone was trying to start a war?”

Silver eyes turned sharp. “You have read the file on Dr. Moffet, Auror Onasi…at least, the file Senior Auror Wilkins put together. Auror Wilkins is the _sole_ reason that Dr. Moffet was _not_ accepted to our division; without his hard work, I shudder to think of where our world would be. We have kept our eye on Dr. Moffet ever since and it seems he grew tired of our ‘meddling’ in his affairs; he vanished into the magical underground some years ago.” A pause. “When we got wind of his plan, it was already in motion… _we_ could not halt it, not without endangering the Statute of Secrecy ourselves.”

“So you went with plan B…us,” Ed concluded grimly.

“Just so,” the Unspeakable agreed quietly. He swept the room with his eyes. “Your reputation, in _both_ worlds, is unimpeachable, with only the question mark of how you would react to werewolves remaining. And so, I put that to the test…and endangered the whole world by doing so. Truly, you all have my deepest apologies for the experience you were forced into by my foolish decision.”

A large part of Greg wanted to lash out…handling the Embassy would have been _much_ easier without the shadow of _that_ future hanging over all of them, without the memory of shattered bodies and a ruined Ministry of Magic lurking in the background. But the pup they’d saved…that his _nephew_ had saved…she was five… _five_. An innocent child, first bitten against her will and then forced into attacking fellow innocents. If _he_ had been in the other man’s shoes, he would have wanted to ensure that anyone trying to stop the war wouldn’t shoot the five-year-old just for being a werewolf.

“All of that,” Wordy whispered, “to save a five-year-old.” The father’s voice was aching, but his shoulders were already straightening, the shadows in his eyes fading, just a smidge. “If it was Ally…”

No need to finish that sentence…Wordy would have taken memories ten times worse to save his daughter…to save _any_ of his daughters. Greg found himself slotting Alanna into the little werewolf pup’s place and realized that he, too, would have taken much more for _her_ sake.

“We might’ve held back,” Spike pointed out suddenly, drawing attention. “Come on guys, if we hadn’t known what holding back would cost us, we might’ve tried to talk them down.”

Greg considered that as well; it was true, as a negotiator, he took every chance he could to talk, to resolve a situation _without_ lethal force. “No way to know now, Spike,” Ed countered. “If our friend here,” he waved at the Unspeakable, who bowed briefly, “had told us the _world_ was on the line, I sure wouldn’t have held back.” Also true, but Spike’s point still held a grain of truth to it.

“At least it’s over,” Lou remarked from his own place. “We’re all still here; might have a couple bad nights…” The constable ignored the looks he got for that remark. “…but we’re still here. Let’s not play the ‘what-if’ game.”

The Unspeakable cleared his throat. “You also now possess the trust of the Toronto werewolf packs…saving young Alysie will have cemented their newfound trust in you and yours to do right by them.” He paused, then continued, “I will see to it that Fenris Ulf and his pack are _educated_ in why attacking your team again would be an _exceedingly_ poor idea. Dr. Moffet, I fear, will have gone underground once more; we can only watch and wait to see what _he_ will do next. Hopefully, he will overreach himself and be captured when next he appears.” He bowed to the entire room once more, then made to depart as Alanna opened the briefing room’s door again. He halted, brow furrowing, and the Knights followed his gaze to a man waiting just outside the door.

The man, tall with a pale, pointed face, long white-blond hair, and cold gray eyes surveyed the room with a sneer. In his right hand was a black cane with the head of a silver snake serving as the handle, the sleeve of the black with emerald trim robe he wore just touching the snake head. Hovering behind him were two Aurors and a smirking woman with coifed blonde hair, green eyes, and rhinestone studded glasses.

Alanna skittered away from the doorway, ending up behind her uncle and brother, fear all but rolling off the redhead. Lance, though, he stiffened, his eyes flashing with barely contained fury. “Lord Malfoy,” he growled.

“Heir Calvin,” Lord Malfoy drawled, his eyes resting briefly on the boy before moving on. “I supposed I should have expected to find _you_ here.”

“And what, precisely, do you mean by that?” Lance queried, cocking his head to the side ever so slightly.

“Come, come, now, surely you _know_ ,” Lord Malfoy chided. “While I cannot _prove_ it, I am quite certain that you and your _charming_ sister are up to your necks in this travesty of tradition and justice.”

Greg stepped between his nephew and the sneering aristocrat. “Unless you can back up your accusations with _evidence_ , sir, I suggest you leave my _minor_ charges alone. Now,” the Sergeant glared at Lord Malfoy, “my team and I were just getting ready to wrap up and go home, so, can we help you or can you find your own way out?”

“Ah, yes,” Lord Malfoy purred. “I am looking for a,” he paused, sweeping the room with his eyes again, “Kevin Wordsworth.”

“Me?” Wordy asked in surprise, maneuvering around the table, though something in his eyes said he had an inkling of what the aristocrat wanted.

Lord Malfoy’s smile was so triumphant and cruel that Greg felt his heart sink in dread. “So… _you_ are the new Head of the House of _Lestrange_.” Lord Malfoy leaned in, his eyes dancing with anticipation. “According to your records, you are nothing more than a _Squib_. A Squib, such as yourself, _cannot_ be the Head of a _magical_ family. As the _legitimate_ proxy for the House of _Lestrange_ , I charge you with line theft, Kevin _Lestrange!_ ”

 

_~_ _Finis_ _A_ _derat_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Be Concluded... Yes, we have a _third_ part to this story. "East of the Sun" kicks off July 10th, 2018 and secrets are about to come crashing down on all and sundry once again... As Greg Parker once said, "Secrets and Families...I'm not sure that's such a good thing."
> 
> Now, more practically, you'll probably have to wait for _late_ Tuesday before the new story will be up. Chapters, if everything is pre-positioned, I can manage, even running out of my new apartment for work in the morning. Brand-new stories on two different sites...not so much. I do apologize, but I will at least have the story up and moving by the end of the day.
> 
> On another note, when I posted the last chapter, I forgot to mention the Side Story I posted over the weekend, in celebration for my progress getting settled in Texas. Please go check out "Quickest Way Back", as well as another Side Story, "The Necromancer". The latter was posted in honor of Independence Day here in America and I hope you enjoy both stories.
> 
> Crossing back to the RL sphere, we _still_ have been pretty much bored out of our skulls, but I have again been assured that next _Monday_ will be better. At this point, I'll believe it when I see it. I'm also really tired of going to work and earning a paycheck for doing nada. I _want_ to work hard, build my skills, etc, etc, etc, but I can't do that if I'm not given tasks to _do_. I also, this week, had one of my longtime acquaintance on World of Warcraft cut me off her friends' list. At least, that's what I assume happened, since she disappeared from my friends' list. Although it's been quite awhile since I actually _played_ , I still tried to say 'hi' whenever I saw her come on, though I've been doing that less and less since she usually ignored me. *sigh, sniffle* I'll miss her, but I wish her and her family well in their lives.
> 
> Have a Great Weekend All, Happy 4th of July, and Happy Reading,sunstarunicorn

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I accidentally posted this without an author's note, so here's just a quick blurb. I'm currently in Plano, Texas and I'll be working in Dallas, Texas. I'm apartment-hunting at the moment, so please pray for that, and I'll be starting next Monday.


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